


The Best Worst Day

by lena-in-a-red-dress (CSIGurlie07)



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Just sayin', alternate valentines day episode idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23951248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CSIGurlie07/pseuds/lena-in-a-red-dress
Summary: An alternate Valentine's Day episode arc for James and Lena.
Relationships: Lena Luthor/James "Jimmy" Olsen
Kudos: 12





	The Best Worst Day

The second James sees the first box of chocolates creep into the CatCo bullpen, he knows he’s fucked up.

Kara sees his expression and deduces it’s meaning in an instant. “Oh, no… please tell me you didn’t forget your first Valentine’s Day with Lena.”

“What?” he sputters. “ _No_. Of course not.”

Her face serves as evidence towards her credulous disbelief. “Uh huh.”

James forces a grin. “Don’t you have an interview to get to?”

“Sure do! I’m on my way to L-Corp right now.” Her eyebrow lifts in a smirk, and James recognizes it because he sees it so often on someone else. Kara’s been spending too much time with Lena. “I’ll let her know you say hi.”

She departs with a jaunt in her step, and James’ heart only sinks lower.

He doesn’t even have flowers. He could try to throw money at a florist for a last minute delivery, or send his assistant to the nearest jewelry store, but he dismisses the idea as soon as it comes. What little his money could buy at the last minute isn’t the experience he had in mind. Lena deserves better.

When he calls her, in the scant minutes he has between a pitch meeting and a status update with the art department, he gives her the only gift he has: honesty.

“Hey,” he croaks, throat rough with dread.

“Hey,” comes the reply, her voice warm in the way it only was with him. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

James swallows. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he echoes. He clears his throat. “That’s actually sort of the reason I’m calling. I… I totally forgot.”

“Oh.” She paused, and James waits for the ground to open up and swallow him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, it’s just been crazy busy, and I had a whole plan in January, but with everything that’s been going on– I just totally flaked. Lena, I’m so sorry.”

“No, James, it’s fine.” James imagines he can hear her smile, but his guilt can’t quite let him believe it. “Really.”

“Are you still free for lunch? I know we had something penciled in, and I still have an hour free…”

“Actually, I cant. Something’s come up.”

Oh. Of course.

“But, hey…”

James latches onto the caveat with both hands. “Yeah?”

“If you have time to swing by tonight, I could make it worth your while.”

The purr in Lena’s voice sends tendrils of desire down James’ spine, only to clash with another heavy dose of guilt.

“The art department is struggling to meet the deadline. I want them to get out at a decent time, so I’ll probably be here late to get them a leg up for tomorrow.”

Silence answers him.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll check in with you later.” This time, Lena’s voice sounds tight.

“I’m sorry.” Guilt settles heavily in his gut. “I love you. I really do.”

“Love you too. Talk to you later.”

The day passes agonizingly slow. Lunch comes and goes, spent working alone without food at his desk. He isn’t interrupted until an hour later, when Brenda comes in with a look of confusion on her face.

“What’s up?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Olsen, but there’s a gentleman here to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment, but he says he’s here on an errand for Miss Luthor…?”

James tries to get a peek through the door, but the man has his back to the office, observing the bustling bullpen that’s taken no notice of him. He doesn’t have anything in his hands, and doesn’t look like a messenger.

“Send him in,” James allows. “I’ll take care of it.”

He finishes up his last email as Brenda bustles out, and hits send just as his visitor comes striding in.

“James Olsen! Just the man I came to see!”

James’ stomach flops in his belly as he looks up to see none other than Nathan Poirot grinning at him from the other side of his desk.

THE Nathan Poirot.

“Oh my god. Hi,” James blurts, standing sharply. “Mr. Poirot, hi. Welcome. I’m a huge fan of yours.”

White teeth flash against dark skin as Poirot’s smile deepens. It’s clearly a habit of his– the older man’s face is lined with decades laughter, and he does so now with tangible mirth.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he returns. “But please, call me Nate.”

James mouth goes dry. “Sure. Sure, I can do that. Nate.” He swallows. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting your visit.”

“Oh, yeah. Miss Luthor mentioned this was a surprise.”

“So Lena did send you?” James asks. Confusion niggles at the back of his mind.

Nate nods. “Lionel Luthor owned the Monarchs back while I was still playing. We got friendly, and kept in touch over the years.”

“Yeah, I’ve followed your career since I was a kid. The first black major league pitcher from Metropolis? You were my hero. Man, I felt that rotator cuff injury like it was my own.”

Nate laughs again. “And I’m still feeling it! You know, I tried to keep going, but my career ended that day. But, I’m glad for it.”

“Yeah?”

“Gave me more time with my family, and got me out early enough that I actually get to enjoy my golden years.”

James nods. “And you started The Pitcher’s Digest. That was huge.”

“It was. But now I’m looking to retire. For good, this time. I’m looking to sell, but to someone who’ll take good care of the Digest. When I heard that Lena had purchased CatCo, I floated out an inquiry.” Nate grins. “She said you were the man to talk to.”

Eyebrows lifting, Jamed can’t help his surprise. “She did?”

“I was relieved to hear you’re a fan. I can’t give the Digest to just anyone.”

James blinks, and suddenly the stars faded and he stares at the monumental honor looming in front of him. One he might not be able to take.

He chooses his words carefully. “CatCo doesn’t have much market for sports journalism. It’s not our demographic…”

“I understand that. But I think it could be. As it is, maybe it’s better suited to an older generation. But with CatCo’s reach and resources, I think you could change it into something that’ll inspire a whole new generation of younger athletes.”

“You’re willing to let us do that?”

“When I say I’m retiring, I mean it! It’s been a long time coming, and I’m not too proud to say I’m behind the times. That’s why I wanted to speak with you. I can’t give the Digest to someone who doesn’t understand what it means to be underrepresented in media, especially in sports. These kids need to see themselves in the pages, to know they can do anything they put their mind to. To know that there’ll be someone paying attention when it’s their turn to shine.”

James nods slowly, rolling the idea around in his head. “Okay. Yeah, we might be able to work with that. I can’t make any promises today, but–”

“Don’t need one today, son.” Nate claps him on the shoulder. “Come on. How about I take you to lunch, and I can tell you all about the time I pranked Howie Louis so bad he refused to use the Monarchs locker room for two seasons.”

James grabs his phone and jacket without hesitation. On his way out the door, he shoots Lena a short text.

_Sneaky lady._

Her response is swift. _What can I say? It’s in the genes. Have fun._

He returns to the office full of good food and better conversation, and a promise to follow up regarding the fate of the Digest. He’s in such a good mood he nearly leaves early, but when the art director stops in with her eyes full of frenzy, James resigns himself to the long night ahead.

He stays even after the art director finally leaves, determined to catch up on the paperwork he’d set aside in favor of putting out fires.

To his disappointment, his phone remains silent, undisturbed by calls or texts.

“Knock knock.”

Lena smiles at him from doorway, a wicker basket looped over one arm. She’s in a dress, but one that’s soft and casual rather than her usual sharp lines. With her hair fluffed over one shoulder, she looks like a dream.

A dream James greets with an instant smile. “Hey.”

“I know you’re busy, but I figured you haven’t eaten yet. I can leave this here–”

“Only if you stay with it.”

James closes the distance between them and pulls her into a soft kiss. When they break apart, their bodies stay flush together, savoring the contact.

“I think I can spare a few minutes,” Lena teases. James takes the basket from her, and starts unpacking. They spread a white tablecloth over the coffee table between the sofas, and unpack plates and wine glasses side by side.

When Lena starts cracking open the containers of food, James nearly melts at the aroma that wafts off of pasta and a duck confit browned butter sauce.

“That smells… amazing,” he confesses readily. They sit, and James scrunches as close as he can to Lena. “Where’s all this from?”

“Casa de Luthor.”

“You _made_ this?”

“I do know how to cook, you know,” she informs him. “I just don’t have the time for it.”

At that, James’ good mood dims. “But you did tonight.”

He takes her hand in his, food forgotten.

“I really wanted to help make tonight special for us. Valentines Day usually feels liks a burden, but this year, it felt like it was going to mean a lot, you know? I had a whole thing I wanted to do, but… I’m sorry. You’re amazing, Lena. You deserve better from me.”

Lena gazes at him, eyes sparkling in the warm light of the office. “First of all: most of this was prepped over the weekend, so there was minimal effort this evening. Secondly… I’m kind of glad.”

“What, that I forgot about Valentine’s Day and have to work all night?”

“Maybe not the forgetting, but I certainly understand it. I meant…” She trails off, gathering her thoughts. When she finds the words she’s looking for, she shifts closer to him. “When I was thinking of things we could do tonight, I kept thinking of what you’ve done for me that means the most… which is this.”

James smiles, puzzling. “I don’t follow.”

“The nights you’ve come to L-Corp, bringing dinner and offering your company.”

“But that’s nothing!”

“Not to me.”

Lena’s voice deepens with honesty. James stills, sobered by the sound of it.

“To me, they’re everything.” She shrugs, a smile playing her lips. “So it’s fitting that I get the chance to pay it forward.”

James nods. “Okay, then.”

A brilliant smile dazzles him, and just like that the soberness lifts. “However, if you let this food get cold, I’m sorry but I will have to break up with you.”

With a laugh, James reaches for the wine bottle and corkscrew. “Well, we can’t have that.”

He pours her glass first, then his own, pretending all the while he doesn’t feel her gaze on him.

“Hey,” she says softly.

When he turns, cool hands cup his cheeks and warm lips gently kiss him again. For a moment, the world falls away, and it’s just the two of them. Together.

“I love you,” she murmurs when she does, her thumb stroking his jaw. “And I am so happy I have you.”

James smiles, and kisses her again. “I love you too,” he promises. “A little more every day.”

He reaches for the pasta, and shoots her smile. “You’ll never guess who I got to meet today.”


End file.
